ure, her failing health.

Lewis called one evening, and, upon entering the parlor, handed me a
note. As I glanced at my name on the envelope, I at once recognized the
hand-writing of Mrs. Leighton. Hastily breaking the seal, I read the
following lines:--

"Elm Street, Nov. 25th, 18--.

"To Miss Clara Roscom:

"I am extremely anxious for an interview with you; but my state of
health will not allow of my leaving my own residence. I therefore
earnestly request you to accompany Lewis upon his return home, for I
_must_ see you. I am sensible that I have no right to ask of you this
favor; but I trust that the kindness of your heart will induce you to
comply with my request.

"Yours truly,

"Cynthia Leighton."

When I had finished reading the note I could not forbear from
questioning Lewis as to its meaning; but he refused to give me any
information upon the subject, saying he was not at liberty to do so. All
he would say of the matter was that his mother had requested him to give
me the note, and await my reading of it. For a few moments I felt
undecided as to going to the house of Mrs. Leighton; but, the thought
that she was ill, and had sent for me, caused me to come to the decision
that I would grant her request. I feared not to meet Mrs. Leighton, for
I had done her no wrong. I therefore told Lewis that in a few moments I
would be ready to accompany him. My uncle wished to send the carriage
with me; but I told him it was quite unnecessary, as the distance was
short and the evening was very fine, and Lewis had said he would
accompany me when I wished to return home.

A few minutes' walk brought me to the dwelling of Mr. Leighton. Lewis
conducted me at once to his mother's apartment. I saw as yet no other
member of the family. After ushering me into the room, he withdrew, and
left me alone with Mrs. Leighton. I quietly advanced into the room and
paused before her. She was reclining in a large easy chair, and I was
much surprised by her changed appearance. She was very thin and pale,
and appeared to be weak and languid; and Mrs. Harringford's letter was
recalled to my mind when I observed how gray was her once beautiful
hair. She extended her hand to me; but, for some moments, was unable to
utter a word. When she relinquished the hand I had given her, she
motioned me to a seat. She seemed agitated by some painful emotion. I
was the first to break the silence, which I did by saying,--

"Whatever may have been your